It was a very busy morning, but there he was in front of his house. He could see the main road, leading in to a nearby school.

That afternoon, he entered the house, flung his backpack into his bedroom – a standard session for all secondary students – and collapsed onto his bed. "Mmm... wow! Keith has a lot of studying to do before finishing high school and going to university, huh?" He chuckled.

It was as hectic in the beginning as any other school day. Mike appeared to be very busy in the morning as soon as he woke up until he managed to put his foot inside his packed school shoes.

His sister was quite happy for him, of course sharing the space in their quiet little home.

"Why can't you just be done here in an hour? School was the last place I wanted to be through today and yesterday, but guess what?

the school might go off for another week".

Today, life does not always torment him with words. Perhaps he missed making it more interesting by incorporating such things as mistakes. At least some of them would probably argue that today is much better than yesterday.

People have not been made for each other.

You can find it everywhere: in the disability study, health and disease perspectives, personal exploration, hospitality, social life, individual and collective agency, and political engagements.

I'm sure he would look great and have everything he ever wanted.

First, they would start arguing, and the next moment, angry voices rose in their tiny space until they could share no more.

This event will take his life closer to the death of his younger sister while establishing the death of his whole family.

Today, the clouds in the sky may be making it difficult for direct sunlight to illuminate the earth, but there is no doubt that all will clear up when the day begins.

"I told you, you'll miss school again."

Mike Lamal Kama walked from the corner of the room through the distance between the wall and the wardrobe to the door, brushing aside all the thoughts that flooded in.

The first sound was the hum from the old fan spinning lazily in the corner of the room. That was more distant buzz than comfort, but it kept the air from suffocating him. He rubbed his eyes in time with the faint light creeping in through the half-cracked wooden blinds of the window. His bedroom smelled of mildew, the stale scent of the nearly five decades of age that hung thick around the apartment.

His stretched body winced slightly as he groaned internally with the protest of his body. Really, he slept so little. But then, this was standard fare. The responsibilities that lay upon him-his family, his future-kept him awake long after the world turned in for the night.

His father voice, low, tired, echoed through the living room: "Mike, Kendra would be late again for school."

Mike doesn't need to be told twice. He tossed away the thin blanket. His feet thudded on the cold floor. In the living room, his younger sister, Kendra, was trying to tie her shoes, her hands trembling slightly.

"Hey, you alright?" Mike asked as he walked over to her.

She regarded him through half lidded eyelids with a forced smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Mike knelt beside her and gently began to work the laces. He could see the tiredness in her eyes-the constant looking toward the door as if she expected someone to come in and fix everything.

"Don't worry. You will get through the day," he said, more like assuring than he was.

Kendra nodded but didn't speak. It was unnecessary since she did not need to hear it; she needed him to be there.

He tied the last of her shoes, gave a fast hug and saw her off with her tattered backpack